Lucille laughed. “Did the heat kill her? Or too many cream puffs at the fair?”
“Almost as bad. A little girl, upset because her flower display didn’t win a ribbon, tossed the whole display into a cow trough.”
“Oh? Death by flowers?”
“It contained oleander.”
“Oh. You deduced it?”
“No. The autopsy did. Didn’t your paper do a story on it? Filled with those convoluted sentences you use?”
“You must be reading someone else’s newspaper. I don’t write convoluted sentences. Not in the features.” Her sandwich was only half eaten. She stuffed it back in the sack, folded the top down, and lightly tossed it on the grass behind her. She opened up her purse, took a cigarette from the pack, and lighted it. “So, Gil, are we here to talk about the weather?”
“Can’t I take a friend out to lunch?”
“You
